AU Crossover Part 1 - In Camelot
by floatinginthenightsky
Summary: This is part 1 of my Hayffie AU/Crossover collection: Haymitch & Effie in the Merlin universe. Please note I have not set it as a crossover because I wanted to be able to label it with both Haymitch & Effie, not just one of them. Rated T for now. This may change.


_**A/N: I'm back, Hayffie people! And very happy to be back. This is something I've never tried before. It's an AU Crossover. Now I know a few Hayffie shippers who love Merlin, as I do, so I give you Hayffie in Camelot! I have a second and maybe a third chapter in mind for this if people want it, but right now it's good as a one-shot. If I get anyone who wants me to continue, I will. I also have some more AU Crossovers that I'm writing at the moment, so if this gets enough interest I will post those as well. If there's any interest in maybe a series of them, I'll take some requests for what you want to see. If you've sent me a prompt before, I'm gonna get to those asap. Anyway, I don't want to ramble on too much, so let me know what you think and I hope you enjoy. :)**_

_**[P.S. I'm sorry the title isn't very creative, but I like to think I used my full effort on the actual fic and the title isn't a big deal. Though I'm open to ideas. But it's fine for now. ;)] **_

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Ah, the tavern. It was always Haymitch's favourite place, full of good men, good music, easy women and damn good beer. Even though he was openly welcome to enjoy the Royal beverages in the castle, he found the alcohol in the lower town had more of a kick to it. It's because of this he sits, slouching on a stool with a mug of beer in hand, his sword on the bar in front of him and his Knight's cloak carelessly strewn over a nearby chair.

There's a certain peace to be found here, he thinks. There's no snobbery or double standards and no sense of duty. Only a few of the other Knights ever come in here, and the King's only been in once or twice with his manservant. It's the perfect place for Haymitch to kick back and do what he does best – waste time. He knows he should be at court with the rest of the Knights, but a visit from some fancy Princess is something he doesn't have the care or energy for; not to mention the bitch of a hangover he's had all day. That's the reason he's drinking in the first place. He had to drown out the feeling somehow. Sure, he's tried all of Gaius' weird medicines over his years, but he always found the best cure for a hangover was to not let himself sober up. It's what he's done for years now, and it's never failed him yet.

The door opens and Haymitch pays it no attention until a shrill, too-proper voice echoes around the room. He scowls and glances around, looking for the source of the annoying racket. He lets out a low whistle when he sees her; all bright blue eyes, smooth, milky white skin and flowing blonde hair. He briefly wonders how much a night with her would set him back; thinks it'd be worth every penny. Until she opens her mouth again, that is. Her eyes lock with his – she'd heard his whistle – and she sends him a prissy glare; a scowl that somehow looks amiss on her face, yet seems to suit her so perfectly. Naturally, he responds with a cocky smirk, raising his mug to her in a silent toast before taking a large gulp. She purses her lips when he belches loudly and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Her eyes drift to the cloak on the chair beside him. He notices her scowl turn into a snobbish smirk; wants to wipe it right off her pretty little face. And now she's walking over, nose turned up at the townsfolk and her eyes fixed on him.

"Somethin' you wanted, sweetheart?" He drawls out, openly eyeing her up, a lecherous smirk on his face half fueled by the copious amounts of beer he's already consumed today. She gives him a look of utter distaste.

"You're a Knight?"

"What's that information worth to ya?" He smirks, licking his lips and leaning closer to her. She pulls a face and leans back slightly.

"Not enough. I was simply curious."

"About what?"

"You just… don't look like much of a Knight, but I noticed your cloak and I-"

"You noticed the bright red cloak? Well aren't you sharp?" He mocks, interrupting her. She is not impressed.

"Well if it weren't for the cloak, I'd mistake you for a peasant." She sneers.

"Oh yeah? How so?" He smirks.

"Because you're a waste of a man-"

"Thank you for noticing"

"-And in my kingdom, we don't give your kind such an honour."

"Well why don't you hop back on your fancy, prancy pony and get the hell back to your own Kingdom, then?"

"Prancy is not a word. However, that's exactly what I plan to do. I am simply in need of directions and some wine for the journey."

"Well you ain't gonna find either of those things here."

"Really?"

"Nope." He grins.

"No wine in a tavern?"

"Does this look like the kinda place that does wine?"

"Well yes. It's a tavern." She states as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. Haymitch scoffs, shaking his head.

"Listen here, _Princess_," he sneers sarcastically. "You seem all la-di-da, so I'll give it to you straight: A snob like you has no business here, and-"

"And what of a _honourable_ Sir like yourself?" She mocks. He glares.

"No honour left in me, sweetheart." He shrugs, downing the rest of his beer before pulling himself to his feet.

"Clearly not." She agrees, briefly taking in his full appearance.

"Well…" He begins, stretching and picking up his sword from off the bar. "It's been a _pleasure_," he smirks, throwing his cloak over his shoulder, "But I'm gonna go ahead and turn in."

He slams some money down onto the bar and turns to her, bowing sarcastically.

"G'night, Princess." He grins and heads towards the door.

"So you're not going to help me?!" She questions, absolutely appalled as she follows him out of the tavern. He's unsteady on his feet as he walks away, heading towards the castle and leaving her standing by her horse and solitary guard.

"Ask one of the peasants." He calls over his shoulder. She's fuming, but she's a lady and she figures a disgraced, obnoxious fool of a Knight like this man is not worth her time or reputation.

"Farewell, Sir!" She snaps at his retreating figure, angrily climbing back onto her horse.

His laughter fades into the night.


End file.
